Hospital of the Future

To most people, hospitals are associated with illnesses, injuries and sometimes, death. Of course, births that deserve     1    (celebrate) take place there too, but with their grey rooms flooded by daylight lamps and still air, hospitals are often not at the top of anyone’s favourite places to visit. Healthcare professionals and patients alike wear anxious faces,     2     hurrying endlessly along the hallways painted an unpleasant green, or stuck in the comfortless wards; the ill health and despair almost sensible in the air. It is no wonder then, that almost everyone is afraid of hospital visits. However, with the rapid advancement of technology nowadays, along with human-centric approaches towards interior design, the hospitals of the future     3     look and feel broadly different, bringing the visitors a more pleasant experience.

A patient’s journey at the hospital always begins at the reception,     4     patients are usually crowded into row upon row of creaky plastic chairs, filling out boring paperwork and awaiting their turn. Instead, fully integrated online systems may turn this process into a breeze,     5    (allow) patients to check in electronically to register themselves smoothly. With waiting times minimised, lobby spaces may be       6    (well) furnished with comfortable sofa chairs and potted plants around to bring clam and relaxation to an otherwise typically distressing situation.

Digital medical devices become increasingly mainstream in the diagnostic(诊断的) process, awkward physical examinations may soon become a thing of the past.     7    (power) by artificial intelligence, machines would become the efficient mode of detecting physical abnormity, as high-tech sensors scan your body, processing data through supercomputers in the hospital’s mainframe, leaving absolutely no margin     8     error. With patient consent, this data may even be stored in the cloud for future reference by different medical facilities if the need arises, especially in emergencies.

3 . Ellen Weiss can hardly see David Schmitt can barely hear. Are they typical victims of aging's cruelest blows? Not really. Weiss is actually a fresh resident doctor in family practice, age 30, and Schmitt a medical student, 26. They have been assigned roles, ages and particular illnesses as an innovative part of their medical training.

Introduced in only a few medical centers so far, such role playing is designed to expose doctors to the pains endured by the patients. It is just one of several techniques being tried at medical schools and hospitals in an attempt to deal with the most universal complaint about doctors: lack of sympathy. “Residents are usually young and healthy.” says Dr. Stephen Brunton. “They've not really had a chance to understand what patients go through.”

Role-playing programs give them a crash course. At Hunterdon, students' faces are instantly aged with cornflour and make up. Next the disabilities are laid on: gloves cripple fingers, and peas inside shoes prevent walking. Then the ersatz invalids are asked to perform common tasks: purchasing medication at the drugstore, undressing for x rays, fling out a Medicare form and, most awkward, using the bathroom themselves.

At Long Beach, new residents assume made-up illnesses and cheek into the hospital for an overnight stay, The staff treats them as they would any other patient, even sending them a bill. The entire entering class of medical students at the Uniformed Services University of the Heath Sciences are issued bedpans and told to use them. Some are even subjected to an indignity: spending most part of the first day of school as people with disabilities.

Instant patients usually start out activated and joking. “But by the end of a few hours, most say, ‘I'm exhausted.’” observes nurse Linda Bryant at Hunterdon. Schmitt discovered that “a major accomplishment was doing up my collar.” And, to his surprise, “I wound up hating physicians who didn't realize how much medication would cost and how hard it was to go and pick it up.” Weiss also learnt: “I realized how little I talk to patients. I might ask them about chest pains but not ‘Can you get dressed, eat O. K, take your medicine?” Jeffroy Ortiz thought he was in for a quiet rest when he was sent to the intensive care unit, suffering from “chest pains.” Instead he spent a sleepless night: “People were coming in to do labs, the man in the next bed was groaning, and the heart monitor was bleeping, which was noisy and scary.”

Any patient could have told him so, but many educators believe the direct experience of such miseries will leave an enduring sense of sympathy. Doctors have long defended taking a cool, dispassionate approach to patient care, arguing that it helps preserve objective judgment and protect against burnout. But critics disagree. “By concentrating on symptoms and lab data, we ignore a wealth of information that can affect patients' well - being.” observes Dr. Simon Auster at the Uniformed Services medical school.